"Let me tell you my own way. Old men are tedious, Stratton, and I am, I suppose, no exception to the rule. However, I will be brief, for I am torturing you, I fear. I racked my brains for hours and evoked dozens of plans, but there was always some terrible obstacle in the way, and at last I sat back here in utter despair, seeing nothing but the plain fact before me--that your wisdom was greater than mine, and that the only way out of the difficulty was the one you had chosen--to restore the body to the hiding-place in there. "It was miserably humiliating, but I could do no more. It was madness to keep the poor wretch where I had laid him; discovery might come at any time. Once I thought of leaving him there and going away myself-- disappearing, as it were, from the world. I could keep my chambers untouched for months--perhaps years--by sending a cheque to the agent from time to time. But I knew that this must end in discovery. An unforeseen event might result in the chambers being opened and searched, and, in all probability, the dead might take revenge and prove our betrayer--you, as a naturalist, know how. "I gave that up, then, like the rest, and, in utter despair, began to unfasten the door again, drew it open, listened, and all was still. You and Guest were, in all probability, asleep. "Going back to the hearthrug, sick and in disgust, I stooped down to reverse my repulsive task, when, as I touched the body and half raised his head and shoulders from the floor, like a flash of lightning, the way out of the difficulty came. Then, overcome by my emotion, I literally reeled into my bedroom like a drunken man, and dropped upon my knees by my pillow in the thankfulness of my heart, though it was long before I could utter other words than--`Heaven, I thank thee! My poor lad is saved.'" CHAPTER FORTY FOUR. THE REVELATION CONTINUED--A LIGHTNING STROKE. The moment before these last words escaped from Brettison's lips Stratton had been sitting there with his elbows on the table, his face worn, haggard, and full of horror and disgust; but now the interest in his old friend's statement returned, and he watched him eagerly. The explanation was coming at last. The half-cynical, indifferent manner, too, had passed away, as he continued: "I came back to this very chair, Stratton, trembling and agitated as I had never been before, to stoop down at once, and then go upon one knee there--there on the rug. His head was just there, boy, and his face a little on one side, so that the profile of the vile scoundrel stood out, clearly cut, against the background of dark chocolate wood." Brettison's manner was now excited, his words low and hoarse, and his manner had proved contagious; for Stratton's lips parted, and he leaned over toward the speaker.